Freaks
by happytide
Summary: A circus is just one big, dysfunctional family like all the rest. She will never leave her family and he will never leave her. He is her magician and she is his assistant. Together they put on a show for a world that calls them freaks. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Freaks**

_Chapter 1_

She has been away from the circus for only six years but that's long enough for her to learn that the real freaks are out there. Not in here.

The carnival grounds are particularly crowded that evening she returns. Grass sticks to the bottoms of her combat boots as she trudges between booths. The fat man. The contortionists. The palm reader. Same acts, same games and same faces for the most part. The world's a mess and the economy has gone to shit yet here it's like nothing's changed.

_She's_ changed. Enough to make her wonder if they would even recognize her if it weren't for the hood intentionally drawn down around her face.

She steps before a particular booth and smiles. The sign before his stage reads _The World's Mightiest Man_ outlined in flashing bulbs. It's impossible but he is even bigger then she remembers.

She watches as healthy young men repeatedly attempt to lift his heavy hammer from the stage while the large blonde man hoists their blushing girlfriends onto his wide shoulders. Eventually he lifts the hammer himself and waves it proudly above his head as his eyes pass over the crowd in triumph. The audience loves it.

As his eyes pass over the crowd, she goes stills. Without meaning to do it, she has ended up front and center of the crowd. Carnival lights flash across her face and she is _right_ in front of him yet his eyes pass on over her because somehow...

...he doesn't see her.

She wanders away from his stage, buys a candy apple and is sucking the sugar from her fingers when she sees _his_ booth.

_The Magician._

The sign is misleading. He's never done magic in his life, only tricks.

He is a little further away from the rest of the carnival but he's always liked his space. She doesn't dare approach his booth because there are far too few people there. But from afar she can see the young couple who have stepped into his web.

Even from here she is impressed by his skill at handling a deck. When Loki shuffles the cards his fingers are like wind going through the pages of a book. He fans them out and the girlfriend choses one. Dice clatter to the table and Sif sees the couple gasp. He wags two fingers and the guy begrudgingly drops some cash into Loki's ever surmounting jar.

He's still up to the same tricks. She is yards away, obscured by the hood of her jacket, and there are people moving in and out of his lane of view yet somehow...

...he sees her.

* * *

She waits until the very last hours of the night, when the sleepy patrons trickle off the grounds and the circus music dies away. Thor is unraveling the hand wraps from his meaty palms when she approaches him.

"I remember a time when this sign read World's Mightiest _Boy_ instead of Man."

Thor freezes at her voice and turns around.

"Sif."

Her name comes out of his mouth like a sigh of relief he has been holding in for six years. It's all he has to say before she shrugs off her green duffel bag and meets him in for a tight hug. She expects questions; where she's been all this time, who she's met and the things she's seen and all that other shit she isn't ready to answer.

Instead he tells her they will go out for a drink as soon he closes up.

God bless him.

An aged voice comes from behind Sif. "What are you doing here?"

She turns around and sees Odin hasn't physically changed one damn bit.

"My enlistment contract is up. I want back in."

"I've got enough performers," he grunts. Odin only has three ways of speaking; grunting, muttering or roaring.

Sif takes a deep breath and she can feel Thor at her back listening quietly for her reply. How can she explain how badly, she _needs_ to be here and how she should have never left.

"Frigga said this would always be my home. She promised me."

Sif would feel guilt if she weren't telling Odin the honest truth. His deceased wife is the only link in his chain and always has been even when she was alive.

The following morning the tents are taken down, booths are dissembled and the props are packed back up.

The train leaves to it's next destination and Sif is on it.

* * *

Sif is at first surprised and excited to learn she will be given an entire box car to herself. But then she discovers it's the _storage_ car and only a tenth of the space isn't cluttered with boxes of costumes, props and anything else that can be hoarded back there. It's enough space for a twin mattress, nightstand, small wash tub and, well, that's it. What else would she need though?

Thor introduces Sif as his kid sister to the few people who don't already know her. She cringes each time. Not just because they believe him but also because that in turn makes Loki her brother as well. Like hell.

It's not long before the newer performers want to see her talent for themselves. Sword swallowing is an ancient art yet it's an uncommon skill to find, even here in the circus. So she obliges them and they are moderately impressed if a little bit disturbed. Sif has been doing it for so long that she no longer bats an eye when the blade trails down her throat but for them it's a little unsettling.

Sif's talent isn't likely to ever make it to the Big Tent, the one in the center of the carnival. That's where the _real_ circus is at. The show is ran by Odin himself and features the acrobats, the tight rope walkers, the ponies and all that other _pretty_ stuff.

It's a while before Sif performs at all.

At first Sif is given the most humbling jobs a traveling circus has to offer. Odin mutters that he has to move some acts around or some other crap but Sif knows it's a test. He's making sure she intends to stay this time around.

So he gives her tasks like picking up trash after the shows. And bathing Volstagg cause lord knows the poor bloke is too fat to do it himself. And scooping out elephant dung by the pound. But Sif isn't going anywhere.

So Sif tips back her flask of whisky, rolls up her sleeves, takes it seriously and doesn't complain. She picks up stray tickets from around Heimdall's ticket stand. She bats out the old rugs in Karnilla's palm reading tent. She picks up pop corn and shit alike.

And for the most part Sif is content.

They never stay in the same town for more than a few weeks. When they take to the train tracks Sif holes herself up in her little box cart home and burrows into her mattress. The blowing of the train whistle doesn't sound like exploding grenades at all but she still needs her whisky to convince herself of this. No one knows about the PTSD and she plans to keep it that way.

During her time as a glorified carnie Sif realizes that as talented as all the other performers are, none of them get a reaction quite like Loki does.

With just a roll of his dice he can make his audience believe in magic. They aren't entertained though. They're pissed. It's not just that he uses his tricks to get them to empty their pockets. It's his demeanor. Even when he smiles, there is something mean about it.

Sometimes she sees upset young men stalking away from his booth with their girlfriends in tow, muttering words like "british douchebag" or "cheating fag". Americans and their fucking language.

Loki never acknowledges Sif's return to the circus. She never sees him during the day. She never sees him at meals. It has to be intentional, after all the circus isn't _that_ big. He has never liked her and she has never liked him so it's just as well.

Sif is scraping the dried mud caked beneath a pony's hooves when their charade comes to a halt. She is surprised to see him the daylight.

"I'd expected you to be fat by now and married with ten children."

She squints up at his silhouette, shielding her eyes because the sun is right over his shoulder. _Married with ten children. _He has no way of knowing that he's just hit a very delicate nerve and she refuses to let it show.

"Not the life for me." Sif is nearly proud of her casual reply as she turns back to scraping at the pony's hoof. What the hell does he want anyways? She has been here for weeks and _now_ he wants to chat. Bullshit.

"The world wasn't what you expected to be." Oh _fuck_ him. So much intuition, and it's all wasted on this asshole.

"Sure."

_Go away._ He does.

* * *

One day Odin has had enough. Loki's pissing off too many customers. As much as Loki enjoys his little booth, for _some reason_ the audience doesn't enjoy being made fools of themselves. Odin thinks they want something edgy and entertaining. Loki's good with knives so Odin comes up a _brilliant_ idea for a flying dagger show but of course there are no volunteers.

So the seniority card is played and Sif just so happens to be the newest on board. She argues the fact that she's been in this circus longer than half the people here but apparently those are just technicalities. Odin thinks the combination of Sif's sword swallowing and Loki's dagger throwing is going to make tickets go like hot cakes.

This is how Sif becomes Loki's assistant. At first Sif finds the title pretty offensive and wont accept it. It's not like she's just posing there and looking pretty with her thumb up her ass. No she's expected to put on a god damn show of her own. It might just be her most dangerous performance ever and anyone with two eyes will see its a partnership. But Odin has only got one eye and he runs the place.

So yeah, Sif is Loki's assistant. Whatever.

* * *

The first time Loki's daggers cuts her skin, it is only their third day of rehearsing. She is sliding the tip of the blade into her mouth with trembling hands as daggers fly into the board around her. He is precise and his daggers land at least a full four inches from her skin each time. Yet no matter how skilled he is with his throwing, Sif feels sick to the stomach with uneasiness each time he releases one from his hands.

_He knows what he is doing. He knows what he is doing. Damn that was close!_

The next time he throws, she accidentally flinches and the dagger skims her shoulder. She take the swords out of her mouth as he lowers his hand.

"What was that?" He demands as she steps away from the board with a gasp.

"I'm sorry but have you noticed I've got a fucking _sword_ down my _throat_ while you're flinging over a dozen knives at me. What if you miss?"

"How about you do your own job and trust me to do mine."

"Trust _you_?"

She laughs in his face.

No one see him for the rest of the day and he doesn't show that night to perform. What a flake.

* * *

Despite their inability to get along for more then two minutes, their act improves and soon they are doing it in front of an audience.

Girls cover their eyes. The kids squeal. The men swallow. Its like she never left.

Despite the positive reaction from the audience, Odin grunts that they need to work on their presentation. They need to dress it up. Make it less scary and more thrilling. Oh and sexy, too. Apparently Sif wears too much clothing.

"Why doesn't he just have me take off all my bloody clothes," she rants to Loki. She does this sometimes just because she is sure he doesn't listen to her. She drops to the floor and starts to push. She may be out of the military but she'll be damned if she lowers her fitness standards an inch.

"Then we would _really_ have some quality entertainment wouldn't we? " She huffs between push ups.

He takes a drag from his fag and turns the page of his book. He isn't listening. Typical.

So Sif dresses like a slut as requested and it gets them more attention. Okay, she doesn't actually dress like a _slut_ but from the way Loki's unkind eyes pass over her bare skin in disapproval, it makes her feel that way. It some what comforts Sif that he gets a costume too. It's a black and green outfit of leather and fake gold that is nearly identical to hers.

Except _he_ gets to keep his legs and chest covered.

Sif agrees to make their act a little more tasteful but refuses to add balloons without explaining why. Thor sides with Odin on the idea, thinks it would be _brilliant_ if Loki were to pop the balloons with his daggers.

Loki rolls is eyes. But for Sif it's a solid _no_.

Odin is considering putting Sif and Loki's show under the Big Tent but needs to see an effort on their part to enrich the show. Sif uses this as motivation and Loki, well, Loki doesn't really seem to care about Odin, his tent or anything else. Sometimes she wonders why he is here at all.

But for some reason when Sif asks for things, Loki will usually give them to her. She tosses it to his indifferent nature.

So per Sif's exact request, Loki "acts like he gives shit", sleeks back his mess of black hair and stops smirking at the damn audience.

Sif puts on lipstick, uses a blindfold and sometimes changes her sword for an iron stick with a flaming tip. Sif considers her efforts much larger than Loki's but she will get what she can take.

With a little choreography and some music their show is suddenly Big Tent worthy. The audience _adores_ the show, her hard work is finally paying off and she _would_ be entirely satisfied...

If it weren't for the fact that Odin introduces them each and every night as the _brother and sister duo_.

They are both uncommonly tall, have ebony hair and wear matching costumes so Sif can see why the audience buys it. People seem to really like family performances but Sif doesn't thinks it's necessary. Loki doesn't seem to particularly enjoy suddenly becoming Sif's sibling either but with him she can never really tell what he likes and doesn't like.

Thor loves the two working together and suggests Sif takes a stage name;

Lady Loki.

_Please_.

* * *

Thor's temper is the same as when they were younger.

Sif can say that for the most part her fans are earnest people but wherever you go and whatever you do there will always be perverts. Sif has a nearly formulaic way of dealing with the unwanted attention and here is how it usually happens:

There is the perverted man who approaches her after a show with some cheesy, lewd line.

"Hey babe, how would you like to try putting something of mine down your throat that isn't made of metal?"

Then there's Sif slightly more witty yet equally vulgar comeback.

"Well I've never attempted anything shorter than two inches but there's a first time for everything right?"

The pervert won't usually handle the rejection well and this time is no different.

"What did you say to me freak?!"

But this time around _Thor_ happens to over hear it. She hadn't even seen him until his voice startles her from behind.

"She _said_ you should watch the way you speak to a lady."

"Hey fuck off big guy." Not a smart move. Thor comes barreling forward.

"Thor, I have this completely under contr-" Sif starts to say to Thor but it comes a little too late. He has already pulled his fist back. Thor lays the guy out and Sif sighs. She would like to see it as an act of jealousy. But she knows Thor too well.

* * *

Sif comes to realize that the only thing Loki and Thor share is their temper.

If she had been thinking ahead she would have hid her whiskey a little better but she hadn't expected Loki to so easily find her stash. Right after a show she walks around the stage intending to grab a whisky bottle from underneath the wooden platform. But she stops short because Loki is standing there with the bottle already in his hand.

Sif catches the incredulous look he gives her and shrugs with a snort. It's not the first time she's had a few swigs before going on stage and it's not like she got _drunk_. She doesn't see the big deal.

"What? I'm sober_, bloody hell_. It's make me steady-"

The bottle shatters to the ground and Sif shrieks in shock, her hands fly to her mouth.

"**Are you out of your _fucking_ mind**?!"

Sif's eyes are wide and her heart is racing. She has never seen Loki this pissed and it's scary. She has seen the scathing looks he gives to Thor and doesn't really understand them but they have never been directed at her.

"**Look at me!" **Her eyes fly from the wet ground to him. "If you think this-" he stabs a finger at the fragments of glass and whisky that stain the floor. "-is acceptable you have a problem."

Sif's jaw sets and she looks away in anger and a tad of shame.

"The next time I find you've been drinking before an act I will see to it myself that you never set foot in this place again."

He is serious.

After he is gone Sif is left to stare at the puddle of broken glass and whisky in after shock. What the hell is it to him anyways? He doesn't really even care about the show.

* * *

One night after a show in Boston, it storms. Thor loves the thunder and lightning. It's loud and powerful like him so why shouldn't he? Sif nearly has a heart attack. Thankfully whisky can drown out even the sound of thunder.

A fairly drunk Sif stumbles into Loki's box car later that night. He must keep it unlocked out of arrogance. He isn't here so Sif rifles through his things shamelessly and seethes at how much room his has in this box car. And what does this wanker do with all this space? He fills it with _books_. What is he, a god damn philosopher?

Sif is passed out on his bed when he returns. She awakes to the smell of smoke to find Loki sitting on the end bed with a cigarette between his fingers as he reads. Does he do anything else than smoke and read? She can tell she didn't sleep for long at all because she is still very intoxicated.

"When I close my eyes I see their faces," she slurs into her arm. She looks up from the pillow at Loki. His cigarette is frozen an inch from his mouth and he is actually looking at her for a change. "I hear them getting shot all around me. I hear them dying. But they can't hear me"

Not every dream is a nightmare though.

"Sometimes I see Frigga. Before the chemo."

His book snaps closed and he is up in a flash. He slides the door open for her, allowing the chilly night air into the car.

"Get out."

Sif rolls over, still drunk off her ass and unable to catch his dangerous undertone. Sif giggles drunkenly as she gets off the bed and goes to the door. It's no longer storming, thank goodness. She pauses at the door before Loki.

"And sometimes I dream about you."

She doesn't even blush as the secret easily escapes her lips. Sif supposes later on her behavior will shame her when she's sober and the only way to chase away her humiliation is with her flask. It's a vicious cycle and Sif knows she is drowning. What can she do about it?

She presses her back to his chest and pulls his stiff arms around her shoulders. He is uneasy and resistant as she sways her hips against his. Although she's got him trapped against the wall he could make her stop if he _really_ wanted to. She should stop but she doesn't.

"I dream you're touching me. I don't even like you," she snorts. "Your such an asshole and you're mean sometimes but I just-"

She pushes herself into him, a little lower this time. A little gasp comes from her lips as she suddenly feels that there is a part of his body that is _actually_ responding.

He freezes.

"There you are."

She is suddenly hit with cold air.

"Goodbye Sif."

She flies into damp grass. It take her a moment to realizes her pushed right out of his door. But by then the metal door has already slammed shut behind her.

Asshole.

* * *

One morning Sif can't find her dog tags anywhere. She wears them like they are apart of her skin and somehow they have vanished in her sleep. She empties her duffel bag, turns her mattress over, scours every inch of the carnival grounds. They are nowhere to be found. After a week they leave for a new city and she must give up her hopeless search for the treasured tags.

The show must go on.

* * *

Sometimes Sif will go out. Usually to replenish her liquor supplies but sometimes she just likes to walk around in a new city. She remembers fondly months ago when they had reached New Orleans just in time for Mardi Gras. Bourbon Street had been fun and Thor hadn't noticed when she looped her arm through his.

This time they are in Vancouver and it's a really pretty place so Sif walks around the port's edge alone, watching the city lights glitter off of the English Bay. It's the furthest North Odin ever takes the circus and soon they will return to American soil. So Sif treasures the cool bite in the Canadian air.

This is why she does it all.

Sif doesn't decide to turn back until an ungodly hour. She gets lost easily and knows it's her fault for wandering so far. She's find herself on the east side of the city where the only things left on the streets are hobos, whores and drunks. Sif guesses she's one of them.

By the cat whistles she knows she's on the grittier side of town. Her quiet footsteps somehow catch the attention of a man leaning up against a grungy wall in the alleyway to her right.

"Hey princess." He is old enough to be her father and Sif can smell his alcoholic breath from here. She happens to be sober, mind you. "I got a question."

There was a time, _long_ ago, when Sif would have meekly pulled her coat tighter and scurried away before he could finish his sentence. Instead Sif slows down, something a woman should never do when alone but men don't scare Sif like they used to.

"How much?" He asks between hiccups as his eyes run over Sif's body. If he was sober he would see that Sif is wearing at least four layers of clothing but he isn't. So to him everything with breasts and a pulse is a prostitute for hire.

"You can't afford me sweetheart."

Somehow he notices her accent. "I've never nailed a British chick before."

"And I've never kicked a Canadian's ass."

He suddenly shrugs off the wall and snatches Sif before she can make a run for it. The air around him is rancid and Sif scrunches her face, trying to disappear within her scarf. He's a big guy. Sif didn't notice when he was slouched against the brick wall like a dumpy sack of potatoes.

A stray cat jumps from behind the dumpster and runs away from their commotion. He's only beginning place sloppy kisses down her neck when his weight suddenly vanishes.

Sif's eyes fly open. Loki? He yanks the man back and brings his knee into the drunk's gut. He keels over just in time receive Loki's fist right in his face. He flies backwards onto the ground in a bloody-faced mess and is out like a light.

Loki crouches down and puts his cigarette out on the unconscious freak's forehead. Then he just walks away with his hands stuffed in his pocket. All Sif can think is that _he just put his smoke out someone's head! Who does that?!_

"The train leaves in an hour."

These are the only words he says to her and they are thrown over his shoulder before he disappears into the night. She imagines he is pissed that Odin sent him after her. Or maybe he was following her. She doesn't know, Loki's a strange fellow.

After that night, Sif begins to think there is something wrong with Loki. Like mentally. There were signs. The anti-social tendencies. The lack of remorse. It's becoming clear; the guy is nuttier then a payday.

The more she realizes that he's kind of fucked up like her, the less she dislikes him.

* * *

The sun is shining bright the day Thor meets Jane Foster. She is petite, pretty and painfully young. The brown eyed brunette is one of the local American university students here in New Mexico. Thor introduces himself by inviting her on stage and kissing the top of her hand. The goofiest grin Sif has seen splits across Jane Foster's face.

Even from afar Sif can see things are about to change.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

The second time Loki cuts Sif it's when Thor and Jane Foster share their first kiss. They are in the stands with the rest of the audience. Like they are on a fucking _date_ or something. He leans and she leans...Sif should be paying more attention to the act but she can't look away from them. Their lips touch and Sif feels her stomach drop.

Sif moves, the dagger slices her thigh and immediately Sif knows its more serious than last time. She refuses to be taken to the hospital but they close down the Big Tent and Loki takes Sif to her trailer.

She has never seen Loki in her trailer before. He seems to tall for the small space. She swallows down a mouthful of whiskey as he wraps the bandage around her thigh. She boldly plucks the fag that hangs from his lips and takes a pull as she watches his face.

Sif doesn't like the taste of cigarettes or the way the smoke moves through her lungs. But she wants to see if he cares that her lips have touched it. She plays games like this sometimes. Because Loki is such a private person, the only way to learn his true character is through a series of tests.

"How long have you been smoking?"

"How about this," he plucks the smoke from her fingers. "You don't worry about my lungs and I won't worry about your liver."

Sif smiles over his head at his choice of words. _Worry._

She watches him finish off the bandage with practiced fingers._ He knows exactly what he's doing._

"You could have been anything."

A doctor. A professor. A philanthropist. A man like Loki could have the world at his fingertips.

"I could say the same for you."

"No. I can't leave the circus. " She trails off. "I want to travel, you know? I thought the military was the answer but it wasn't. I like it here."

She _does_ like it here. But Thor... in her mind she sees them kissing again. Jane Foster has a hold on him.

Sif eyes grow moist. "Is he going to leave us now?"

He balls up the wrappers as he stands and tosses it in the trash. She catches his hand before he can go and tear drops are still stuck to her eyelashes. "Stay the night with me."

"Goodbye Sif."

The door closes.

The second time around there isn't alcohol to soften the sting of rejection. Sif knows she's throwing herself at him for all the wrong reasons. Last time she was drunk this time she want's a distraction. But why should it matter? She knows he screwed Jane Foster's little dark haired friend with the glasses. Sif saw her disappearing in his box car the other night. Why should this be different.

Whatever, screw him.

* * *

For once Odin's overbearing nature is in Sif's favor. He demands that Thor ends his relationship the "American girl" as he puts it. Thor is appalled and fights tooth and nail. It isn't until Thor threatens to leave the circus that father and son reach an impasse.

So Thor doesn't leave. Instead Jane Foster joins them. That's right, she drops out of college and joins the circus. Who fucking does that? Either Jane Foster is nuts or Sif doesn't understand love at all

Thor asks Sif if she will share her box cart with Jane Foster until they can make space for her and Sif has never really been able to say no to him. That's how the two become bunk buddies. Well actually she makes Jane sleep on the floor and the small woman is so nice about it that Sif almost changes her mind. Almost.

Much to Sif's chagrin, Jane Foster is incredibly likable. She is humble, smart, funny, quirky and so damn cute. She is everything Sif is not.

Sif would have no complaints with sharing her little space with the woman if it weren't for her invasive nighttime questions. It's like when the lights go off she think it's fucking story time.

"Is Thor adopted?"

"...what?"

"He looks nothing like you and Loki."

Does everyone believe that bullshit?

"They aren't really my brothers," Sif mutters and turns on her side to face the other woman in the dark. "And Loki is the adopted one."

"No one really knows who he was before Frigga found him. He was just a small child living as a thief in London with nothing but the clothes on his back. He must have came from some really traumatic shit though because he couldn't remember anything before then. Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't it."

"Why do you have the same last name as them?"

Sif had joined the circus in her early teens, back when the Odinsons were still in England. When Sif tries to remember those days things get a little foggy.

"I had no other name to claim." The other woman knows not to cross certain boundaries and is silent for a few minutes.

"Who is Frigga?"

Sif pretends she is asleep.

* * *

When they reach Seattle, Odin comes up with his next _brilliant_ idea; the Canon Man. Its drizzling and muddy that day they put the stunt to the test. Fandral, their poor resident stunt man, is soon being stuffed into the mouth of the canon and it's not long before the fuse is lit. They all stand by in expectation.

The canon goes off and Sif drops to her knees in the mud. Around Sif grenades shatter. Helicopters catch a flame. The Afghan air is hot. Shells fly.

Thor tries to talk to her and attempts to lift her from the mud but she flails. Even Jane Foster, bless her heart, kneels down to wrap her small arms around Sif and gently attempts to coax the terror from Sif's eyes with murmured words. Sif can't hear the words over the demons that have taken ahold of her mind.

When Loki comes she lays still. He lifts her into his arms and carries her out of the rain and into her crammed box car.

She doesn't remember him taking off her dirt shoes, peeling away her muddy clothes, or pouring hot water in the metal wash tub. But when she comes to her senses, her head rests against the rim. Some 1920s song crackles softly from the ancient radio on her night stand and fills the humid air with it's old time melody. She feels like an egg in boiling water, so hot that she isn't sure if her forehead is damp with the water or her own sweat

But his hands are a cool relief on her skin. It's then that she realizes he is bathing her. Her hooded eyes slide to his face, shadowed by chunks of ebony hair. The smoke curling from his cigarette melds with the steam that rolls of the soapy water. He smokes too much.

Before today Loki has never once touched Sif inappropriately. Has he touched her at all? Regardless, his fingers now move freely across every of inch Sif's flesh in the hot water only stopping to thumb away a stubborn smudge of mud. He doesn't really pay particular attention to any part her body. It's like she is a mannequin and her breasts are just made of wood or plastic.

With a nudge, he dips her head back into the water and as air bubbles escape her nose, she can feel his hand massage grunge from her scalp. His face looms above the rippling surface of the water. For a brief moment Sif wonders if he will hold her under, he doesn't of course and soon she breaks the surface with a deep breath.

With a prod he starts to pull apart Sif's knees and for a moment her heart seizes up and she resists. He gives her a dry look because he thinks she is being modest. With a swallow she relents and allows him to part her legs as she watches his face.

He doesn't notice at first.

He washes this part of her body the way he washed the rest; with complete indifference. She jumps a little because he fingers even go _there _but soon he see what she has tried to hide. Sif finches as his thumb gently touches the scar between her hip bones.

"You can't have children can you?"

She can see it in his face, he's thinking of the first thing he said to her so many months ago when she was cleaning mud from a pony just the way he is cleaning mud from her.

_"I'd expected you to be fat by now and married with ten children."_

Not all women are capable of producing ten kids, let alone one. Well, a soldier doesn't need a functioning uterus to do her job and what the hell should Sif want kids for anyways. But if that fucking bullet had been just an _inch_ higher...no, Sif won't go down this road again.

Sif stands in the metal tub and covers her breasts, her modesty making a surprise appearance as Loki gets her a towel.

"I should have never left," she whispers as she tightens her arms around her dripping body.

It's a constant thought in her head. If she had never left the circus maybe instead of carrying a bullet in her womb she would have had Thor's son in there. The what if game is pointless and Sif no longer cries about things that are beyond her control.

"Why did you decide to come back?"

She steps into the towel.

"You are the only family I have."

* * *

Sif returns the favor and follows Loki one night. She is still uncertain if he had been following her that night in Vancouver but she has been developing a questionable curiosity for him. So she silently stalks him (it's the really only word for it) down the dark allies of night time Chicago until he disappears within a seedy bar.

She is confused at first but then she realizes; Loki gambles. And he is _good_ at it. Sif has never played poker before but knows a winner when she sees one. She also knows a cheater when she sees one. Same tricks. What does he do with all that money?

She waits a little while until after he has left to leave the bar herself.

He is waiting for her outside. It's not so shocking that she can't pull one over on him.

So she doesn't jump in surprise when she sees him leaned up against the building holding a smoke between his lips. Instead she rips the cigarette from his lips and snuffs it out with her shoe.

She wishes he would stop smoking.

He curiously tilts his head at her from beneath his dark hood of his jacket. Sif is reminded of the night she returned to the circus, nearly a year ago and the way she had drawn her own hood around her face. So much has changed since then.

She takes him by the arm and steers him away from the flickering lights of the bar. It makes her uncomfortable thinking of all the angry, cheated men that are still in there.

As they stroll down street together she reaches down to puts her hand in his larger one. She does it cause she can and knows he is too passive to stop her. They walk hand in hand for a few blocks before he asks her a strange question.

"Why do you love my brother?"

It's unexpected and random. Of course, he understands the way she looks at Thor. He is too smart not to.

"Why don't you?"

Neither answer.

* * *

Jane Foster must think Sif is her friend. Why else would she come to Sif crying? She moved out of Sif's box car months ago but now here she is curled against Sif's side in the mattress. Sif holds the smaller woman awkwardly to her chest, very unsure of what she should be doing or saying. Despite Sif's envy she does not like to see the woman crying; it's makes her uncomfortable and little sad inside. Should Sif ask her why she's crying? Is that what normal women do in these situations?

Sif's deliberating comes to an abrupt end with just two whispered words.

"I'm pregnant."


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

The third time Loki cuts Sif it is because she's been drinking. It is also the last time.

Loki couldn't have known Sif was drunk. After so many years of ingesting alcohol, Sif has become an expert at keeping the bleariness from her eyes. And come to think of it, it's actually been a good while since she's gone to her whisky flask as a solution. Yet that damn _baby bomb_ had really caused a relapse.

Despite concealing her intoxication she finds herself swaying in the way of a dagger and it just barely nicks the skin of her cheek. It's hardly even a flesh wound. But Sif doesn't possess the coordination to keep her body from tensing around the sword that slides through her esophagus.

She feels pain and gags. It only gets worse after that. She hears gasps all around her as she violently keels over and the wet sword clatters to the wooden stage. She pukes blood, the music stops and a little girl screams.

This time Sif _does_ go to the hospital.

* * *

When she wakes up she finds Loki resting his forearms on her hospital bed. He looks haggard. There is something in her that wants to comfort him and immediately she begins to babble.

"We're leaving for Texas next week. By then this whole thing will have blown over, we'll have a new audience and the show-"

"The _show_." A soft, bitter chuckle comes from his lips and it sounds strangled. "Sif, I'm _done_. I'm done with the swords and the daggers and the _drinking_. I waited six years. You didn't tell anyone you were leaving or where you were going. I waited _six years_.

"When you came back I thought you might have changed but I was wrong. Look at yourself. You're still afraid of the world and you're still letting men hurt you. Have you ever considered maybe, just _maybe_ that other men exist in this world besides-"

She cuts him off with a whisper because she stopped listening after _I'm done._

"You're leaving?"

She remembers back when he threatened to pull the plug if he ever found her drinking before a show. But this isn't at all what she expected.

His silence is her answer. Her frown trembles and then suddenly white hot rage washes over her. _He is fucking leaving!? _

"Then what are you still here for," Sif spits bitterly. "Go already." She shoves at his shoulder. "Go!"

His eyes glisten at her pathetic attempts to push him away. He leans forward as Sif catches her breath and kisses her.

It's the first time their lips have ever touched before. Even then, as his lips gently move against hers, she _still_ doesn't get it. His mouth is soft against hers and warm for a few more moments and then the heat is gone.

"Goodbye Sif"

It is the last time he ever says these words. It's not until he has left the room and Sif is alone with the beeping monitor that she _finally_ understands.

_"Why do you love my brother?"_

_"Why don't you?"_

She knows now.

_"Because he has your love and while I do not."_

A noise comes from beside Sif and she suddenly realizes that a nurse has came in without her noticing and placed something on the table beside the hospital bed. Sif's feels faint when she sees what it is.

Sif's dog tags.

She shakily reaches over and takes them from the table. _Odinson Sif. _She rubs her thumb over her name engraved in the metal. She has needed these tags for so long to remind her of who she is yet all this time has slipped by and she hasn't thought about these tags once. She hasn't needed them.

"Who is this from?" She asks with a thick voice, although she already knows the answer.

"You're brother."

Sif eyes swells with tears because Loki really _is_ her family. She doesn't want to him leave her and she doesn't see him as her brother. Sif wants Loki in the way that women have wanted men for ages. Her heart is malfunctioning in her chest and she can't breath and she can't stop crying.

So, this is what it _really_ feels like to be in love.

* * *

Loki never returns to the circus.

Sif throws away her whisky flask.

* * *

Sif searches. With every new town they pull into, there is a new hope that Sif will find him. She doesn't.

Sif accepts her lot. Thor loves Jane. Jane loves Thor. They are having a baby and Sif accepts it. She will always love Thor but she wants his happiness more than her own. She finally realizes that.

When Jane starts to approach her second trimester Sif leaves the circus. This time she does it right though. She says goodbye; there are hugs and tears and even a going away dinner. This time around there are no regrets.

Sif goes back to London where it all began.

She searches and she still doesn't find him. She reaches a point where she realizes she needs to make something of herself. The first logical step wold be return to school and because of her veteran benefits she is able she to do just that. It isn't easy at first. She is rusty and her classmates are younger and sharper. But she tries her best and against all odds she succeeds.

Sif enrolls in Central Saint Martins and gets a degree plan going. She finds a decent paying job as a barista at the local coffee shop a few blocks from the school house. It's enough to live comfortably in a small townhouse apartment in the city.

She is content

Sif is only in her first semester when she gets a call from Thor. _Jane had a fat, healthy baby girl_. Sif rushes out and buys as many baby clothes and toys and diapers and formula cans as she can fit into a shipment box and sends it away with a small smile.

Sif has been so busy with school, work and just recovery that she doesn't even realize that she has finally stopped searching. Of course that _would_ be the moment when he finally appears.

* * *

"I'm sorry."

It's the first thing that comes out of Sif's mouth when she finds him sitting at a table in her coffee shop. He is seated near a window, a little further than everyone else but he always did like his space.

Sif sits down at his table, taking the seat in front of the window and nervously smooths out her apron. Loki watches her with his intense eyes, waiting for her to elaborate.

She's sorry for forcing him to watch her abuse the alcohol. She's sorry for doing to him what Thor did to her. She's sorry for using him.

Is just _I'm sorry_ good enough? Absolutely not but Sif has never been particularly eloquent.

So she _babbles_ and tells him she stopped drinking and that she is taking classes and she's got a steady job and place to live and _shit_ she's out of things to say. She finally takes a deep breath and waits for his response.

And you know what this man says?

"Pick a card."

Sif looks down and he has produced a deck of playing cards and fans them out before her to chose. What the hell is this? She looks back up at him and he is expectant. After a hesitant pause, she goes along with his weird game and pulls a random card.

"Take a look," he instructs and she does as he asks.

A Jack of Spades. Where is he going with this? He tells her to slip it back into the deck and he begins to shuffle them. She missed his shuffles. Eventually he stops, sets the neat stack down and pulls right from the top.

"Was this your card?"

Queen of Hearts.

"No."

"This one?" He continues to pull the wrong cards.

"_No_, Loki."

"This?"

People are starting to look. One woman has completely turned her chair around and a young man has paused by their table.

"Nope."

He goes through the _entire_ deck and by then they really have an audience. Then, once he reaches the last card everyone gasps in shock and Sif is confused as she looks down at the table of upturned cards

"Look behind you!" A woman yelps pointing at the window behind Sif.

Sif turns around to find her Jack of Spades stuck to the other side of the window, held there by wind on the other side of the glass. It's a good, no an _amazing_ trick but that's not why chairs are suddenly moving, people are clambering to get a better look and her heart has stopped beating. The two words written in the center of the card are what has taken everyone's breath away.

**_Marry me._**

Oh_, shit._

She slowly turns to Loki to find he is watching her.

"Is that your card?"

Sif drags him out of the shop by the arm feeling a strange patch on his skin. She is not sure if this is a joke and she is not sure if she is angry. She pulls him into the empty alley way and pushes him up against the brick wall. She thinks she may have intended to scream at him. She isn't sure.

Sif is just opening her mouth but stops as she realizes what the rough little texture is on his arm as she looks down. It's a cigarette patch.

It's a goddamn _cigarette patch._

Sif kisses him with an urgency she has never felt before and grips onto him for life. He moves his mouth against hers with equal passion and digs his hands into her hair.

She loves him so much more than she could have ever imagined.

As she leads him to her townhouse and up to her bedroom, she demands he never say goodbye to her _ever _again. He promises he won't. He can't.

Her dog tags clank between their naked bodies that night and the next night and many that follow. Being with him is like nothing she expected. It's full of raw emotion. It's love, passion, anger, fire, hurt and joy every single time. They know each other too well for it to be anything less than spectacular. She is so glad it happens when it does. It's like their lives are finally falling into place and making sense.

No, _this_ is what it really feels like to be in love.

Sif has never felt so familiar with another human being in her life. She lets him see her cry and he lets her know when he needs his space.

Of course she will marry him.

xXx

Loki murmurs in her ear one morning that he wants to leave London. He doesn't have to tell her that this city is plagued with dark memories; she already understands. So when Sif finishes school they leave England and travel just like she's always wanted. It soon becomes apparent to Sif that money is nothing to Loki. He's got so much of it that he can afford anything they could possibly desire. Sif is content to live out of her own backpack but he wants to go sailing. She says yes of course; she will give him anything.

The one thing Sif is never able to give Loki is a child. There are some things that even Loki's magic can't fix. But he tells her everyday that she alone is enough for him. She believes him.

Somehow these two broken souls manage to become functional again and Sif knows with all her heart that they couldn't have done it without each other. Sif never regrets her past again; its what brought them together.

They never really left that train; the circus is all around them and it's everyday. _Life_ is a fucking freak show, is what it is. There are distorted fun house mirrors everywhere that reflect who they really are inside. Like clowns they fight to juggle their past with their present while trying to keep their grip. And together they walk on a tight rope every single day, holding onto each other to keep their balance. Life's a circus and they are both just two freaks like everyone else.

He will always be her magic man and she is his assistant.

**The End.**


End file.
